Jenny and Jethro's Alphabet
by LovelyLivy
Summary: Jibbs-based drabbles on each of the letters of the alphabet. T for some language. This is my first for NCIS, so please be kind. And please review!
1. Attentive

**Hi! I know I'm not very original but I wanted to try this ABC thing anyway. Please review and tell me if it's good or bad. I know they're a little short, but they are simply drabbles that get done a lot quicker if the word count is less, obviously. **

**I don't own NCIS or the characters, obviously. If, in fact, I did, Jenny would not be dead, Vance WOULD be dead, and I would not be sitting in front of the computer eating Ramen noodles in my jammies on a Saturday night. I'm actually feeling kind of McGeeish right now, if you'd like to know. **

**Review please!**

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**A for Attentive**

He had always had a certain infatuation with her lips. A certain pull that others would pass off as just being an attentive listener. But, oh, it was much, much more than that. Take now for an example, as she was half screaming at him though perfectly well aware he was only a few feet away. And after the good chew out was over she sent him on with a warning he would quite happily ignore. Because to him, getting into turf wars with Metro Police or the FBI meant a very angry Director Sheppard. And a very angry Jen meant a very hot Jen. And one Leroy Jethro Gibbs was more than happy to listen very attentively if a very hot Jennifer Shepard was involved.


	2. Basic

**Hello! I still own nothing and still have no social life. Suprising much?**

**Please, please, please, please!- Review!**

**Thanks and love,**

**Alivia**

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B for Basic

Sometimes the most basic information is the hardest to come by. Like a name. His name. It was her first day on the job and she was more than happy to kiss ass if it meant getting on 'Special' Agent Gibbs' good side. What she didn't know then is that he didn't exactly have a good side. Either he liked you or he didn't. So when she went to meet him, prepared to take his hand and shake it firmly, give her name surely, and exchange what she thought to be a polite greeting, she never, ever expected what actually went down. A simple slip of the hand caused his very black looking coffee to slip out of his hands, and tumble to the ground, spilling hot liquid onto the floor in the process. She didn't get proper manners or his first name until she cracked a case for the first time, nearly three weeks later. And he _still_ called her Jen.


	3. Cologne

**I DO NOT OWN NCIS! I thought we had established that already! If I did I would not be driving a white mini-van my Mother bought when I was born.**

**Please Review. You will make me really happy by doing so.**

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**C for Cologne**

His smell was always a mystery to her. Just as Jenny's was to him. She smelled like sunshine, as cliche as it sounded. So warm and lazy. And he smelled like the sawdust and bourbon and Jamaican blend to her. And when you tangled their scents together you made one hell of a Cologne. Or perfume, whichever you prefer. Their scents comforted each other in times of need and longing and pain. When Jenny left, the first thing Jethro did when he got off that plane was drive straight home, where he fell into bed. He could still smell her on the pillow. And when Jethro left on that damned Margarita Safari Jen spent many nights at his home, making sure dust didn't collect and secretly satisfying her own need to feel his presence. His house, even without him occupying it, always seemed to carry that smell she loved. And when Jenny died, before Svetlana came into the study, Jethro Gibbs enhaled deeply, trying to take in as much of her sweet scent as possible, silently wishing for things to be different.


	4. Death

**Yay? Nay? Please review. I need to know if these are any good. **

**Thanks.**

**Alivia**

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D for Death

When faced with the death of someone they love a person usually does one of two things, they either cope, or run far, far away. It's fight or flight, in a way. Because Death is what scares us more than just the darkness of night or the height between yourself and the ground. In fact, it's a monster in its own. It rears its ugly head and rips through lives with no mercy, tearing a huge gaping hole where one once stood and making absolutely no move to apologize. It makes us realize how important and how delicate one really is, and how easily they can be taken away. Like the saying goes; you don't know what you had til it's gone.

And now, standing in front of that metal slab in autopsy, hand hovering over the body bag that held one of the most precious pieces of his existence, he couldn't bring himself to fight, to open the bag. In that millisecond, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was just a weak man who had lost his best friend and his soulmate. The thought of having to face that was too scary, too terrifying to look in the eye. So when he was faced with the decision that could most likely make him come to an astonishing and ironic realization of the heart, he ran from it. Leroy Jethro Gibbs chose flight, and only had his memories of Jenny Shepard to go by, because he never opened the body bag. He never faced the fact she was really, truly, gone.


	5. Emeralds

**I'm just gonna start putting up 2 a day. Sound good? Anyway, review. Please. I haven't had one stinking review and I've had more than 200 readers so far. But I'm not complaining.**

**Thanks anyway.**

**Alivia**

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**E for Emerald**

He always loved her eyes. When she was aroused or determined they were pools of molten emerald you could get lost in. When she was upset or angry they were turned dark and hard. And when she was content or happy they just held a sparkle in them he could never place. Shannon had had blue eyes, as beautiful as the ocean. And the rest of his red headed ex-wives all had various shades of indifferent brown. So Jenny was the first green-eyed red head he had ever had the privelage of being with. And after her, all he wanted was those emeralds. When she looked into his eyes for the first time she had unknowingly ruined him of any other woman. _And_ she was a red head.


	6. Framed

**Hey sorry I haven't updated in a while. Life is busy and I am a little lazy. Scratch out that note I previously added about twice daily updates. I don't know what I was smoking, but my vision was definitely clouded. Anyway, read and review and enjoy...please!

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F for Framed

When Jethro had given her back that picture of her taken all those years ago, her first reaction was anger. The picture taken in Serbia was a memory, all in its delicate and thin paper. A memory of long, hot, sleepless nights and skin against skin. Of love and passion. And for him to give that back to her in such an ordinary, easy way, a simple white envelope, was offending. But then again, she _had _done the same to him almost eight years ago in a coat pocket.

Regardless, him giving back that picture in such a manner downright pissed her off, and dropped her self esteem just a hair. But then, after the anger had faded and she simply looked at the picture some of flashbacks that it triggered calmed her a bit. The memories of Serbia actually brought a small smile to her lips and as somebody asked her when it was taken, she answered as truthfully as possible, even though she couldn't give out any of the details. Yes, this picture was taken a lifetime ago.

And as she walked out to her car later that night, the picture warm in her pocket, she wistfully thought the picture was going to need to be framed.

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_**Oh and this has some spoilers or tags or whatever to the first episode of season 4 (?) I think. anyway...yeah...**_


	7. Gloating

**A/N- A special thanks to CSI Enyclopedia, JenTWCSINYFAN, dk7955, and a one to CruorLuna, your reviews are very much appreciated!**

**This coming Wednesday is my Birthday! The big number 12! Meaning I will be on a sandy Florida beach, drinking a virgin mango daiquiri, and reading Anne Rice novels. It's my favorite day of the year! lol. You know what would make my Birthday even more extra special? Reviews! I love them almost as much as my dog, who I love A LOT! (she has her own wardrobe.) Making one thing quite clear; I don;t care if you just ramble about random things (I call them Abby Moments). Anything would be greatly appreciated so...please? lol. This one might be a little OOC. My friend Michaela liked it. :)**

**Disclaimer: Ummm...hi? I am so socially awkward it's obvious I don't own such a beauty as NCIS. I do, however, own one very freaked out mother, who comments daily on how she should take me to see a counselor. Apparently, since I am 11 years old and have a crush on Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I have...daddy issues? Okay momma, go take your daily pill. (Doesn't she see how cute he is? I guess I'm just attracted to Marines (sigh)). lol.**

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**G for Gloating**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not a man to to keep quiet when he had won an argument or beat an opponent in a game. Nor when he had just once again outsmarted the Director of an armed federal agency.

It had all started out as a harmless bet made between Ziva and DiNozzo that the Director and senior agent had just happened to overhear. The point of this game was to create a very confused band of subordinates and confuse them it did. But it had also confused the two fearless leaders. The bet?

Who would jump who first.

Of course, Gibbs had immediately professed she would be the one to finally give in. His control was surely better then Jenny's- any day. And of course in turn Jenny Sheppard had said he would be the first to crack. To make a move on her.

And then they went into weeks of teasing, flirting. Jenny would make sure to purposely wear her skirts a little shorter and he would make sure to invade her personal space as much as possible when arguing with her. They went on like this for weeks, until one cold winter night everything changed.

Including the outcome of the bet.

He had screamed at a reporter earlier, muttering profanities under his breath that the camera had caught expertly. And that left one pissed Jenny, who was sleep deprived, had a massive headache, and had to deal with his crap.

Arguing was hot, and the heat seared right through their bodies, sending them both into a frenzy of lust and uncontrollable passion.

After it was over, and their bodies lay entertwined with one another on her office's couch, Jethro stroked her red curls and found it hard not to gloat, even if it was more a tie than anything.


	8. Hair

**Hello Dear Ones. I am so exhausted I can't explain why. This maybe a little OOC, who knows? Did my best to get this up here, be grateful. But even in this tired state I can still say this; PLEASE REVIEW! **

**Loves,**

**Alivia**

**I don't own NCIS. And I'm too out of it to make up some funny entertaining story of why I don't own it. Sad? I think so.**

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**H for Hair**

He hated her hair cut.

Not her hair, per say, as it was still that red he loved. It still looked like silk, and it was still being washed with that same shampoo used in Paris, or at least he thought so, as he could still smell the scent when she walked by. But her hair cut, now that was a different story.

When she had first arrived at the agency, it had been put up and off her face. Then he couldn't really tell if it was still long, but when she had arrived with it down and natural three days later, he knew she hadn't really touched it in six years. And he still loved it. He loved the way the natural curls would frame her face, giving her a feminine look that could only be described as sexy. He remembered what it looked like right after they made love, and silently wondered if it would look the same now as it did then. But then, not to long after, she had changed it.

And cut it short.

Now when I say short I do not mean just at the shoulders or even a bob...Oh, no...I mean a pixie cut. Maybe the better name would be Man cut or something like that. To Jethro, she still had that beautiful face, but now all that gorgeous curl was gone.

And don't think that made him any less attracted to her; it just made him scrunch up his nose like a dog that just got sprayed with water when trying to mark his territory. The cut was severe and only when it had started to grow out was he half way happy again.

In fact, as she was giving him the news about the tragic death of Will Decker he almost commented on how good her hair looked. But he stopped himself, because right then wasn't the time or place, he thought.

Little did he know he would never get the chance again.

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**Goodnight from the deep south!**


	9. Ice

**Soooo...I have good news and bad news.**

**Good news: Tonight you will get I, J, K, and L. **

**Bad news: I won't be updating for a good week and a half because I will be in Florida, heading out late late tonight actually. I have also decided I won't post anything else until I have at least 11 more reviews. I feel it's fair since I am making it a priority to get a couple extra posted in account of my trip...and...the day after tomorrow, or more like tomorrow now I guess, is my birthday. Reviews make me really really happy...PLEASE REVIEW! **

**I also thought it was nice that I hit chapter 12 right before my 12th birthday. Whatever, I liked that idea.**

**Wish me lucky stars,**

**Livy**

**I DON'T OWN NCIS! It's been established and I'm actually considering getting a shirt that says that.**

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I for Ice

Ice had played a role in the relationship between Jenny and Gibbs since day one.

The ice blue of his eyes that could stare a hole through her soul. The cold substance used for pleasure on those steamy nights they shared in Marseilles. The color of her sweater the day she realized she could still be jealous of other women whom Jethro dated. The way her skin felt when Tony DiNozzo checked for a pulse that was nonexistent. Or one of the most pivoting moments in their relationship; the day she left him.

Because as she boarded her own plane, knowing Jethro, the letter, and her heart, were all already thousands of feet up in the air and gone, she felt her stomach ache and head pound. She felt as though all that warmth that had previously churned through her body, creating a heat that was only described as love, had somehow frozen over. It felt as though leaving Jethro had killed all other feelings of that sunny happiness previously owned. She was a bitch, she just knew it.

And leaving her soulmate had turned her into cold, hard, ice.


	10. Jealousy

**This one made me a little depressed actually...I hate the feeling myself. :(

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J for Jealousy

Jennifer Shepard was not a woman of envy. In fact, she seldom ever really felt the emotion. She wasn't a materialistic person, Jenny never had been. As a child her father had taught her to be grateful for what you had, and she had carried on with that lesson even into her adulthood. Jenny had a nice house that her father had left her, and a relatively good paying job, so money wasn't a problem.

For only times when she battled the feelings of envy were when she would see a couple playing with their toddler at the park. When she saw a mother running with a stroller. A family, is what Jenny longed for, even though she knew her time for settling down was far past its mark.

That was, until she saw the man she loved with another woman.

She expected him to move on, of course. He had married two times after she had ended their relationship as proof. But this was different. Far, far more different. The secret smiles she saw them share. The closeness they had that was far too intimate for her to bare. It made her feel hollow and empty inside. For the first time in her adult life she felt truly alone and just the thought of it made her want to cry.

But of course, she would not let anyone see this. No, she would keep her professional facade on at all times, regardless of this _feeling. _And especially in their presence.

Jenny wanted to stop it, she really did. She wanted to walk up to him, heels and all, and tell him how she felt about him, a cliche as it sounded.

How she loved him. Always had, always will.

But then, every time she got her nerve up, she remembered what she had done to him.

How she had left him. How she had chosen the job over the love.

The thoughts broke her even more.

So Jennifer Shepard sat at her desk, a glass of Bourbon in hand, and liquid pooled in her emerald orbs. All behind the locked doors of her office. Her only wish that this woman would be gone soon.

Yes, Jennifer Shepard was jealous. Jealous of one woman, by the name of Hollis Mann.


	11. Kids

**This is just a thought that I've been entertaining...hope it doesn't suck! Maybe Jenny-centric, heck if I know. And very, very, very, very angsty and depressing and everything else that makes me actually cry a little. Review please!**

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**K for Kids**

Jenny Shepard didn't want kids. Rather, she knew that it was far too late in her life to have any.

Most would immediately comment on how she wasn't _that _old. And how if she really wanted any there was other ways in which didn't require the use of her body. Adoption. Baby Mama's.

Still a no.

Why? We would ask so curiously, when in her reality the subject was anything but light.

Because of my job, she anwers, this time truthfully. We pass it off as that she works too much. Our minds want to accept that. So we move on, ask for the waiter to please bring us more breadsticks, and change the conversation to a more open matter.

And later that night, as Jenny gets into an empty bed, her thoughts go back to our conversation topic, and the real reasons she doesn't want kids.

Once upon a time, she was thrilled at the thought of a white picket fence future, filled with soccer games, recitals, and a man to kiss her when she came home everyday. Hell, even a dog would have been a nice touch.

And then her Father, whom she depended upon emotionally to be her one and only rock, a sanctuary in her times of need, was taken from her. He was murdered in cold blood, and then she had nothing, no one, and on top of it all, they had declared it a suicide.

It was a slap in the face, a punch in the gut, and she made the decision the moment the death certificate was signed to take matters into her own hands. To get the revenge her Daddy deserved.

She was so driven. She thought about it more than anything else, and all those previous thoughts of dogs and fences were thrown out the window. Jenny enrolled in FLETC, went through the motions, all along thinking of how it would feel to put a bullet in Rene Benoit's head.

And then she met a man who changed everything. He hit her like a ton of bricks and actually made her focus on something other than death.

And his name was Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Being his probie was not enjoyable, let me tell you that. And she was a woman, too. The chauvanistic bastard could treat her like shit and then offer to help her get out of a car, becuase that's just the way her was.

And she loved it.

He pushed her in ways she never thought possible and then when they were assigned to Europe as partners, he pushed her in a very different way.

Safe to say they were intimate by the second night.

When she was with Jethro, really with him, almost all thoughts of The Frog were gone from her mind. And a few months into their relationship, she actually let herself daydream about a future other than the one chosen. One that included everything she ever wanted before her father...

It went on like this for a few more months before she realized they had been like this for almost a year. This close, this beautiful.

But the skeletons she had always seemed to rattle at times, scaring her shitless in a way she never imagined. And that's why she never told him. Fear. Just like how she later guessed he felt about his daughter, his first wife.

The day Morrow called about a job promotion that could put her well on her way to where she had previously wanted to be, she accepted it without hesitation.

And just like that, the kids, the white picket fence, went poof.

After she left Jethro, children were never thought about. It just wasn't an option anymore.

Only after she had become director, watched him with that little boy, seen their 'daughter' on the bullpen screen and finally suceeded in killing that damned man had she felt the remorse. The pain, in which only came with a loss so severe you couldn't put a name on it.

She had lost a future, and she had chosen it.

That's what hurt the most.

But even like now, as she lay in bed, darkness surrounding her, did she have the real ability to dream, one she thought she had lost long ago.

Jenny dreamed of a little girl with red curls and blue eyes that could pierce your soul. A baby boy with a scruff of dark hair and sparkling green eyes.

And there, thinking about what a future she just might of had, she began to cry. Sobs wracked through her body that she just couldn't control, as she mourned for something never possesed. It was almost as bad as losing her father, leaving Jethro.

But to think all of this could be triggered by a simple conversation topic? Well, I would have never guessed that at all.


	12. Lamp

**Hope you like it, please review!**

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**L for Lamp**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had been kicked, punched, slapped, blown up, and shot at too many times to count in his life. Near death experiences were an everyday thing. It came with the job he held. And of course, he had had things be thrown at him before. His ex wives were very experienced in that.

A 9 iron, a frying pan, a stapler, a hair dryer, a rock, hell, even a damn cellphone, had all been forefully shoved in his immediate direction. He hated the feeling. But Jethro Gibbs had never had at least a 15 pound lamp thrown half way across the room at him.

Jennifer Shepard was different. Especially in her fighting techniques. It was more like her to get big with her words than to physically do something to him. Well there was that one time in Positano...but that doesn't matter right now. Jenny never, ever, got physical. Until now.

During a very nasty fight over who lost the forged passports, screaming her head off, Jenny's rage became too big to just come out of her mouth. She didn't consciously realize she was picking up the object nearest to her, a lamp, as it was, until Jethro actually _cried out _in pain. She had never heard him show aloud any types of discomfort or, god _forbid, _pain. He was too damn tough for that.

So this discovery freaked her out. A lot.

The sight of him holding his hand where the glass had shattered and managed to cut his hand worried her tremendously. Immediately, all anger evaporated.

She was quiet as she held his hand and motioned for him to go to the bathroom, and remained silent as she tended to his wounds, which suprised her alot, because he never liked her babying him. Only after she had left the room, cleaned up the glass, and slipped into her night gown did anymore conversation resume.

And of course, like Jethro Gibbs was, he was the first to be the bigger man...to remind her what the second 'B' in 'Gibbs was for... and to take the silence and snap it in half.

"We really need to work on your aim."

The make up sex was amazing.

And that's why six and a half years later, as he stood across from her in her new office, her reprimanding him and (as he could see), suppressing a rage very potent, he couldn't help but smile, as he thought of how far she's come.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?" she asked, frustrated and angry and gritting her teeth at his damn smile.

"Well then where_ is_ your mind, Special Agent Gibbs, as it appears you have seemingly placed it elsewhere."

"Just wondering if that aim has gotten any better." He said with a smirk on his lips.

Her face went blank for a moment, until she realized exactly what he was talking about. Then she promptly proceeded to blush crimson.

And in a second it was gone. A Cheshire cat smile fell across her face. She crossed the room to stand next to him, invading his personal space entirely and licked her lips, and he gaped a little.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear words that he knew no one else would be able to hear, even if they were standing two feet away from them, as these words were meant for him. Only him. Her voice was low, seductive, and everything else that could make Leroy Jethro Gibbs a little uncomfortable in his slacks.

"As I remember, it was your aim that needed fixing, Jethro."

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**Like it? Remember, I'm still almost 12 years of age, and this is my first hinted sexual stuff that I've ever posted. Isn't that a a great word. Stuff. lol. I'm such a dork. Okay goodnight everybody! Gotta finish packing now.**

**Livy**


	13. Maybe

**_Hello people's of the world. Haven't updated this in so long and it feels good to let out some of my inner Jibbs. Like it? Love it? Want some more of it? (Who knows the artist?) All you have to do is REVIEW! My hypothesis states that if you give me more reviews then I will update faster because I will be in a better mood to write. You can either accept or reject it when I update next. BYE! :)_**

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When I was Jethro's lover, the word 'maybe' was forbidden. The reason why what we had is so special was a mystery to Stephanie or Hollis, and even I, to this day, still am mesmerized by the true answer. It's not that we were 'soul mates', or were 'made for each other', or even that he 'confided in me his soul'. That would be cliche and cheap. The fact of the matter was, I just understood him. I understood his compassion, and his hard-headedness on certain matters. His distance (finding out the real reason for it later) and his love. Most would never believe it, but Jethro is a very loving person. That year in Europe changed the both of us, and because of it, we'll always know one another, in a way.

Of the many things I understood about him, it was his loathing for the 'maybe'. Maybe means I don't know. And I don't know means there's doubt. I have the feeling before Shannon and Kelly he was okay with it. But after...the word was just another tear at his heart. It hurt him personally because he always wondered if he might have stayed at home, maybe they wouldn't be dead. I didn't know this until just recently, however, so before I was just going on pure instinct.

But that's a lie. I'd been working for him for two months when it happened. He asked me a direct question sitting across from me in the bullpen, something about if or if not I _thought_ the suspect had done it. I was slightly confused, he got frustrated. 'What does your gut say, Shepard?' For just a second, in all my experience with him, I was terrified. Not once had I ever been afraid in the slightest of what his reaction to what I'd say would be, but now I was. So what did I say?

'I don't know. Maybe?' The last part came out part question part statement. My voice even raised half an octave and I fought the urge to head-slap myself. For a second his face clouded in disbelief at what I said and then he looked...angry. He stood up, walked over to my desk, and the height difference made me feel like a true subordinate. He looked me in the eyes, and blue was sparked with steel.

'Don't ever say the word, 'maybe', again.'

I was slightly pissed and more than a little confused at the sense of it.

'I honestly _don't_ know. What if I had said yes and I was wrong. I'd be looking pretty stupid then, wouldn't I?' Just to see his answer, as this wasn't actually my true line of thought.

'Sometimes you're wrong, Jenny. But make a decision. It can be the difference between life and death. And if you are by chance wrong, then you move on.'

I just nodded. He glared at me for the rest of the day. And I never said the word again.

But again, I lie.

This is where everything gets messed up. The part where he asks me to move in with him and I don't give an answer but an unintelligible string of words. The day before I leave it all. Before I leave him. In my letter to you Jethro, I didn't say but a few sentences of goodbye. No explanation except for a job offer. I did hold to my promise, to an extent. I never the words out loud, but I did make a choice.

If I'd have stayed with you, and said yes, and never looked back, we would be entirely different people. I bet all those ex-wives said 'maybe' a lot. And who knows, we could have lasted. That's the decision, the answer, I wanted to give. But I couldn't.

I had things to do and goals, however sinister, I wanted to accomplish.

And you weren't apart of them.

So I said no. Because life got in the way. Because doubt and insecurity won out over our love. It still hurts me to admit the truth, but that's just what it is, isn't it? The truth. So unlike the lies of Jeanne Benoit and Tony DiNozzo or our denying of love for each other when Agent Todd died. The truth was loving you meant making a choice that I could live to regret. Regretting you was more painful than any thought I could ever muster up.

If I had been able to make the choice without any consequence, I would have said maybe. But we both know that would never have been good enough. For either of us. There would always be something to be desired and you would have never gotten that straight answer you crave.

And so, we move on.


	14. Need

**_Kay, so this was written in 20 minutes and not given much thought so it's definitely not gonna be one of my best work. One of good writing buddies Michaela came up with word and theme so...cookies to her. Thank you all who reviewed! More, please? lol. Like the little puppy of that one commercial. If anyone can name the poem that's kinda mentioned in here I'll...give you air hugs and an imaginary cookie. lol. We kinda sorta discussed it in my Lang. class so it was on my mind. Anyway...R&R! :)_**

**_Alivia_**

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They had a need for balance. Like Paris's thick black curtain of night and the blinding light of the Eiffel tower, reaching out like a lovers caress to meet half way.

A need for courage. She would never admit it out loud, but she protected him till the very end, eventually making the ultimate sacrifice in order to allow him no harm.

A need for meaning. A wheel barrow means so much more than it looks from afar. It carries through times of need. She needed him to carry her.

A need for strength. The agony in his eyes was almost unbearable as he pleaded with her to give him the one thing that was impossible. Even though he was unaware through his fresh pain, she was, too, holding back tears. He did not remember her.

And that goes hand in hand with the need for acknowledging. Everybody deserves a pat on the back sometimes. Even the director of NCIS. Only when she would push him away did he not acknowledge the good she did, and not allow her to turn to Bourbon.

Understanding of why one another did things was a big one. And understanding of the chain of command was a more humorous counter-part. The need for silence. The need for hope. The need for adoration. The need for sex (or lack thereof). The list went on and on.

But then there was some needs that were not so passionate or beneficial. The need for secrets. Some things were, in fact, better left vocally unexpressed. And others were just secrets.

She did not tell him about her father, and he did not tell her about Shannon or Kelly. The need for balance over rules.

Later came the subtle need for explanations. Things just too complicated to totally understand unless the situation was recalled. Lies is what broke them apart.

But that's not it, is it?

The thing that held them together the most broke them, in the end. The need for love. Or feeling. Whichever makes more sense. Since that first night in Marseille, it was not just about the need for sex and lust, no. It was about the need for closeness. For understanding. For everything.

Towards the end, she realized want and need were two entirely different things and she decided that this-this relationship, was not need. And she made the wrong choice, resulting in regret.

His rule is; never say you're sorry.

Theirs was; no regrets.

She denied herself the need and she broke their rule. Go figure.


	15. Petite

**Guess what I just did? Wrote a P drabble when it was supposed to be an O. But I'm too lazy to do another one tonight so...guess O is just gonna have to take a hiatus. lol. REVIEW, PLEASE! My boyfriend, Liam, says he loves my writing and I need reassurance that it's not JUST because I was his first kiss. And because I have actually threatened to castrate him if he ever breaks my heart. Learned that line from Jenny Sheppard. :) Anyway...this one is actually based on a real sexual experience. Kind of. My ONLY sexual experience, honestly. And we weren't laying on a bed, we were on the Ferris wheel. And Liam isn't a silver haired fox. Damn. Well...it was a fun fantasy while it lasted, huh? This was also written because the other day I asked Liam if I was fat and he responded by hugging me around my waist. Ahhh...3...HAHAHA! But I'm NOT in love...OKAY OKAY! Done with hormonal seventh grader rant. :) REVIEW AGAIN! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! :D**

**Livi**

* * *

"I'm not as petite as I used to be, am I?"

The question was abrupt, out-of-the-blue, random, and had him decidedly confused and caught off guard. And certainly weary.

They lie on the bed lazily on one of their few weekends off together. Some might call it cuddling.

Her on his chest, he stroking her fiery red curls through his weathered hands. At the question his touch faltered, then continued on.

How do you answer a question like that?

At his sudden silence she turned in his arms and propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow.

"Well?" Her voice was deep and throaty, and it turned him on that she licked her lips unconsciously like that. Some women did it to appear seductive. Jenny was just like that naturally.

Instead of answering her question in words, he flipped her onto her back in a sudden movement and rolled on top of her, pinning her arms above her head with one of his hands, the other grabbing her hip as he pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth.

She responds, moaning a little as he is dominant with her, deepening the kiss. Who couldn't respond when being intimately held down by a certain silver-haired fox?

The hand on her hip traveled up and down her torso. Over her breasts, down her smooth stomach, caressing her jean-clad thighs.

To her he felt large. He communicated through touch that she was in his control and she would be telling a lie if she said it didn't turn her on.

And then it all stopped.

He rolled beside her and she gasped for air, sexually flustered and a whine breaking the air at the seperation in physical connection. She looked at him, her emerald eyes screaming the question,

"What the hell was that?"

To her gaze, he just smiled boyishly and a bit smugly. Damn bastard.

Then he raised his hand to her face and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, making her shiver, whispering to her and answering a question with a question.

"Did that answer your question, Jen?"

To that she responded with a kiss.


	16. Questions

1 Questions were always a thing between them.

Jenny rarely vocalized them. Usually because Gibbs didn't _answer _them vocally.

It could be a tough thing, asking and answering questions in body language. Sometimes it was a note, a look, an unexplained coffee on a desk. It was a game, in a way.

But games were something else entirely, as they were much, much more dangerous.

When Jenny watched him look at her knew hair, she asked him a question.

When he cussed live television, he sure did answer it.

When he Jethro asked her if she was sick, she answered him quickly.

That was enough.

That day, that dreadful, hot, day, in L.A., Jenny did not tell him anything about what was going on. This was the answer to a question that had previously plagued her mind, ever since the day she'd began there at NCIS.

Did she still care for him? If not, it wouldn't interfere with her job. There would be no problem.

The gunshots that rang out through the silent air seemed to cement her previous answer.

_Yes, yes, yes!_


End file.
